


Ides of March

by ButterflyBunny



Series: Avengers' Infinite Playlist [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Protective Steve Rogers, Songfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:29:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyBunny/pseuds/ButterflyBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony believes in ghosts. Because he had seen them. Every year, when he shares a bottle of whisky with Howard Stark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ides of March

**Author's Note:**

> Because of the date the Starks died is very important in Civil War (is mentioned several times) I decided to change the fact March is the date of their deaths to March being Howard's birthday, since this Series is Civil War compliant.

_[(You Ain’t Alone - Alabama Shakes)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwF4lwP7__s) _

 

When Tony was eight years old he realised his parents didn’t love him like other parents loved their children. His father never held him, never kissed him goodnight, always too busy or simply annoyed by him. His mother, even though affectionate was always more concerned about what Howard needed, what he wanted her to do or to be. He never complained, he never told Jarvis, who was the only one who was truly there for him. Still, it made him feel strange, like there was a hole in his chest that needed to be filled, like the more he was denied love, the more he craved it. In school things were different, at least that's why he though back then. He was popular, he had plenty of friends and his teachers loved him because of his genius status. Turns out, his status was the only really appealing thing about him. 

He once told his father about it. _Once_.

Good old pops put both hands on his shoulders, looked at him in the eyes and gave him the only real advice he ever gave to him.

_Stark men are made of iron._

Highschool came and with that a lot of his friends left him, after his parents died he became bitter, closed off. He barely left his room, submerging himself in his inventions, barely talking to Jarvis or anyone else for that matter. He became just like his father had been all of his life. Jarvis stopped insisting on him going out, letting him mourn alone the lost of his parents. To him, his parents had left him long before that, so he didn’t let himself cry.

A year after that, he did cry for Jarvis.

By the time his senior year ended, the only friend he had was alcohol and the only comfort he could find was at the bottom of a bottle.

He entered MIT not even bothering in making friends, it was a waste of time and he knew that now. That's when he met James Rhodes. The first real friend he had, the only friend he ever had. With Rhodey, Tony felt like he had someone again, someone who he could trust. But then he joined the army and once again Tony was alone. Rhodey wrote him almost everyday but he never answered, those letters sat somewhere in his dorm unopened forever.

After that, he realised the part he was suppose to play, genius, billionaire, playboy. And he started partying, going out with trouble kids and drinking again.

_Stark men are made of iron._

Well, Tony discovered that a simple razor could cut through iron one night, that a few pills and a bottle of cheap vodka could stop an iron man’s heart another night. And before the whole third time’s a charm theory could be proven he would met Obadiah Stane. Obie, like he asked to be called with a big comforting smile on his face, he took care of him then, and Tony was thankful for having a father after so long. He picked him up and dusted him off only to throw him down and kick him while he was in the ground.

Pepper had entered the picture before that, and she remained. She stayed.

Happy was with him too, but Pepper and him also left, to make their own life, and Tony was happy, truly happy for them. He had Ironman, he _was_ Ironman and after all those years trying to denied what his father had told him, he finally knew that it was true.

Stark men _are_ made of iron. 

But even after all, after ironman, The Avengers. There were times he felt _lonely_.

That's why he's looking at the bottom of an empty bottle trying to remind himself that he's iron, he's indestructible, he's... Just like Howard. Howard who had been dead for more than twenty years now and still came back to haunt him every year. It was only during his birthday that Howard seemed to remember Tony was his son, and it was only on Howard's birthday that Tony was reminded he was his father. And that hadn't change.

"Stark men are made of iron" he murmurs.

There is no one else awake in the tower, it was way past midnight anyways. He went to a bar after he visited the graves with Pepper - Like he did ever year on Howard's birthday - she always insisted in going with him even if he was there for not more than ten minutes. The faint light from the city filters through the big windows, illuminating the whole living room and the kitchen, where he was leaning against the counter, his vision blurry and his hands shaky, as he took another swing of the very expensive whisky that was opened once a year for the special occasion.

He takes another sip.

Two.

One for him and one for Howard. He leaves his mother out since he knows how much she hated Howard when he drank. Hated him a little less when he didn’t.

"Tony?" He turns, his elbow knocking a glass fruit bowl on the counter as he did.

He could _feel_  Steve scowling as he kneels to pick up the shattered glass. Stupidly enough, since he was obviously too drunk to do it, his vision blurry and the darkness of the room making the task harder. The blond was next to him in a second, pulling from his arm, trying to pick him up while he tried to pick up the broken glass. And he chuckles mentally, because just like him, what Steve is doing is also useless.

"Tony is alright"

"Let me pick it-"

"You'll cut-"

"God dammit Steve!" Tony yells and Steve freezes, "I said I was picking it up! _Fuck_!" he cuts his hand with a big piece of glass.

Steve stood up and Tony couldn't look at him. He sighed heavily and stood up, using his tie to stop the bleeding in his hand. And when he finally did look at Steve he regretted it. Steve was looking at him with a mix of concern and confusion. Then he looked pass him, where the bottle of whisky was sitting on the counter, half empty now... Or half full, depending on how you look at it. Tony had always being a half empty kind of man.

Then Steve's eye widen in realisation.

"It was today?" He asks softly.

Tony stares at him, processing what he just said and then nods looking away. He would have been the same age Steve is now, he chuckles dryly. Why he cares, he doesn’t ask. Steve looks at him apologetically and he shrugs, he doesn’t have to care, he doesn’t need to remember it.

He runs a hand through his hair and then shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired and I drank too much, I won't do it-"

"Tony, Tony, stop" Steve grabs his chin, making him look at him.

And Tony feels like something inside of him stops, his heart maybe, because Steve looked like he was about to cry. The man takes his hand carefully, examining the cut and a sob fills the room.

"Why are you crying?"

He blinked several times and then he realised his cheeks were wet. Steve looks at him fondly and hugs him. his embrace feels like home, like exactly what he had been craving all of his life and he returns the hug earnestly, whispering apologies that Steve had already told him didn’t want or need. He lets Steve cradle him and his knees fail him, making them both fall to the floor. The blond doesn't seem mind, because he kisses the top of his head and pulls him closer to his chest, accommodating him between his legs.

"Tony, what were you doing here all alone?"

He wants to say that the answer is obvious, that he was used to spent this day alone. Instead he shakes his head, running his hands through Steve’s wide back.

"I didn't think-" he shrugs and Steve holds him tighter, "I'm sorry, Steve, I'm so sorry"

And he really _is_ sorry. He’s sorry he's a mess, that he’s lonely, sorry he's crying, sorry he broke the _fucking_  fruit bowl. And he is sorry it was someone like him Steve ended up with. Steve shakes his head, and makes him look at him in the eyes.

"You don't have to apologize, Tony" he said quietly, "and you don't have to hide from me and you don't have to be alone" He kisses him deeply.

Tony fists his shirt, needing to know he was there, that he was with him. The blond broke the kiss and smiled. Oh, god, he wanted Steve to be there with him.

"Forever and ever, Tony" Steve said and it sounded like a promise, "You don’t ever have to be alone"

And that sounded like a promise too. Even better, it sounded like one he was intending to keep.

 

 

  _"You ain’t alone, so why are you lonely? ... You ain't alone just let me be your ticket home...”_

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, anyone else wondering where the hell is Bucky?


End file.
